


Love At First Hold-Up

by ShipThePuppy



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Expect very very little research as this was written for fun and cliches, Guns, HISTORICAL INACCURACIES ABOUND, It's a western of course there are guns, Japanese things in the Wild West, Kidnapping, M/M, Started crack turned into plot, Western AU, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5229986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipThePuppy/pseuds/ShipThePuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cowardly, but oddly courageous at the same time, bank-teller gets more than he bargained for.</p><p>Or: Furihata gets kidnapped by outlaws, Akashi is flirty yet secretive, and neither one expected this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1 (This Bank Ain't Big Enough for the Two of Us)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is already 4 parts in on Tumblr, but I'm going to start posting a chapter every other day or so on here until it's caught up. Hopefully getting it posted here will also give me motivation to update it more frequently in general. xD Also: My attempt at clever chapter titles. 
> 
> Fun fact: This chapter was written more than a year ago. Jeezus I'm horrible.

“Put the money in the bag.”

The order came, quiet and confident, from the mouth of the red-haired leader of the Generation of Outlaws, Akashi Seijuurou.

Behind the counter, the frightened bank-teller quivered. “Y-y-yes, Akashi-sama!” He scooped up the bag and began filling it with cash.

“Don’t forget the gold dollars,” Midorima, the green-haired member of the group with bandages wrapped around his fingers (supposedly to aid with his aim), pushed his glasses up his nose.

Akashi left Midorima to oversee the transaction, and walked over to the group of hostages that he’d left Aomine and Murasakibara to guard over. He left Kise guarding the front door. He fixed his black ten-gallon hat to rest more comfortably on his head. His spurs jangled with his steps,, cutting through the sound of whimpering hostages.

“Let go of him!”

Akashi tilted his head slowly, observing the hostages. One, a mousey little thing around Akashi’s height, was trembling like a leaf. He wore the uniform of a bank-teller, most likely having just been getting off work for the day or just coming in to start. Despite his obvious fear, he was glaring at Murasakibara heatedly.

Murasakibara gave the young man a bored look. “Why?”　In his grip a young boy, no more than ten years old, struggled against Murasakibara’s hold on his neck.

“Because—because!” The young man summoned up all his strength and halted his quivers. “He’s just a child! He’s done nothing wrong!”

Murasakibara frowned with lazy annoyance. “Eeeeh? He stepped on my foot, though.”

“Then-then,” the man looked around frantically, then solidified his stance, his fists clenched at his sides, “if you have to hurt someone for it, hurt me instead!”

Akashi raised his brow, amusement curling his lip as he voiced a quiet, “Ho!”

Murasakibara released the child, who ran to his cling to his mother’s skirts. She held him tight, giving the young man a thankful look, and hushed him as they cowered with the other hostages. Murasakibara placed his hand atop the man’s head, squeezing his fingers slightly. The young man winced.

“I could crush you, you know,” Murasakibara hummed childishly.

The man gulped, paling, but closed his eyes. “If-if that’s what you have to do not to hurt them.”

Murasakibara seemed bewildered, then groaned and let him go. “Ah, you’re no fun.”

The young man looked relieved, and seemed ready to rejoin the hostages, until the cool muzzle of a revolver was pressed to his temple. He froze, and turned his head as much as he could to look down the length of the gun. Akashi smiled at him politely.

“I must apologize for him,” Akashi said serenely. “He can be a bit immature at times.”

The young man gulped again, biting his lips to contain their trembling. Akashi’s eyes unwittingly tracked the movement.

His gaze darted back up to the man’s, a mask of curiosity shining across his mis-matched eyes. “Will you tell me your name?” Akashi asked, but the way he continued to hold the gun to the man’s head showed it was more an order than anything.

The young man seemed unwilling, but eventually voiced, “Furihata. Furihata Kouki.”

“Kouki.” Akashi’s tongue wrapped the syllables like a snake coiling around its prey. He circled around to face Furihata, and propped the gun’s tip under the bank-teller’s chin. He smirked. “You will do.”

“What?” Furihata yelped.

Akashi grabbed Furihata’s shoulder with his free hand, and urged the other to step in front of him. From behind, he crowded Furihata to the center of the room with the gun pressed between his shoulder blades.

“Shintarou, do you have the money?” Akashi called out.

Midorima approached with the bag in hand, weighed down heavily with cash and coin. “Yes, Akashi.” He noted Furihata. “Is he to be our primary hostage, then?”

Akashi leaned his chin on Furihata’s shoulder, and the young man shivered at the touch. “Indeed, Kouki is our hostage.”

Midorima glanced between the two, a look of exasperated knowing turning his lips. “You seem to be having more fun than usual,” he said dryly.

Akashi looked to the side, and caught Furihata peeking at him from the corner of his eye. He raised a brow smoothly, eyes lidding, and Furihata blushed and looked away defiantly. Akashi curled one side of his lips into a smirk. “This day has been unusually interesting,” he replied.

Midorima sighed gustily, and slung the bag over shoulder. “Let’s get out of here before the Sheriff shows up.”

As though the words had summoned him, the doors opened, and the Sheriff stood in the doorway.

“Sheriff Kuroko!” Furihata gasped, hope blossoming over his face.

“Kurokocchi?!” Kise’s gun wavered a bit from where he’d pointed it at Kuroko the moment the doors had opened.

“You quit us and became a Sheriff, Tetsu?” Aomine scratched the side of his head with his gun, pushing the brim of his hat up slightly.

“Hello, everyone,” Kuroko greeted softly. “Akashi-kun, please release Furihata-kun.”

“Hm,” Akashi hummed. “No.”

“You know how this will end, Kuroko,” Midorima reasoned. “Just let us pass, and no one will be harmed.”

Kuroko frowned gently, but nodded. “Alright.”

He backed out of the doorway, gun lowered to his side, and the outlaws followed. Akashi came with Furihata next to last, with Midorima guarding his back as he urged Furihata forward. He wrapped one hand around Furihata’s waist, just to ensure the other wouldn’t run once they’d gotten out. People peeked through the blinds of nearby establishments, watching the proceedings with cautious, curious eyes.

Murasakibara and Kise fetched the horses while Aomine trained his gun on Kuroko, and Midorima kept his pulled and ready should others approach. Akashi’s gray Quarter horse, one he’d helped birth as a child and raised himself, was as calm and level-headed as he was. It came in front of him and Furihata, blocking them from view from the onlookers and Kuroko.

Akashi turned his head and whispered in Furihata’s ear. “Get on the horse, Kouki, and I promise you’ll be alright.”

Furihata shivered at the feeling of hot lips on the shell of his ear. He hesitated. “You promise you won’t hurt anyone?”

The look Akashi gave him was both surprised, and oddly pleased. “You have my word.”

Furihata wasn’t entirely too sure how much he could trust the word of the leader of a gang of outlaws, but there was a strange sense of honor in the air Akashi carried himself with, so Furihata chose to take a chance. He nodded, and mounted the horse, Akashi quick to follow before he could even think to do something sneaky. The gun was adjusted to hover below his chin once more, so that Akashi had his gun arm half-wrapped around Furihata while the other gathered up the reins.

Akashi looked down on Kuroko, and smiled slyly. “I will see you soon, Tetsuya.”

Kuroko widened his eyes, but before he could speak the Generation of Outlaws sped away.

*****

Kuroko watched the dust cloud fade away in the distance, his blank expression tight around the edges. The doors of the Tiger Head Tavern opened, and Kagami Taiga, owner and proprietor, stepped out.

“Kuroko!” He ran up to the Sheriff, worry scrunching his brows. “I kept the drunken hot-heads from trying to get involved—what happened? Was that Furi I saw them make off with?”

“It was,” he answered quietly.

“Shouldn’t we go after him?” Kagami asked frantically, gesturing wildly at the dust cloud that was barely visible anymore.

Kuroko sighed. “No. They have a system. No harm will come to the hostage they take so long as they aren’t immediately followed, and the hostage will be released along the railroad tracks near a neighboring town so they can get to safety.”

Kagami frowned, but seemed to understand. “I’ll get my horse then, and we can head out for the nearest town once they’ve had chance to get far away. We can just pick Furi up along the tracks.”

Kuroko slowly shook his head. “Kagami-kun, how would you like to be my deputy temporarily?”

“Deputy?” Kagami squinted his eyes at Kuroko, confusion turning his lips. “Look, I know you have trouble keeping them on, since they can never keep track of you and get fed up, but is this really the time to—”

“Once they’ve gotten far enough that they won’t harm him, we’re going after Furihata-kun,” Kuroko explained.

Kagami blinked. “But I thought you said they’d—”

“That’s what they usually do,” Kuroko acknowledged. “But I don’t think they will this time. Akashi-kun seemed unusually fascinated, and mentioned seeing me soon—because he knew I’d eventually follow.” Kuroko locked eyes with Kagami. “He plans to keep him.”

Kagami was silent for a moment. “I can get Tatsuya and Alex to watch the tavern for me,” he decided seriously.

Kuroko nodded. “Good.”

*****

Furihata squirmed a bit in Akashi’s arms as they rode, getting more and more nervous, and yet at the same time angry, the longer they were moving. After they’d ridden for an hour, and slowed to give the horses a bit of a break, Aomine came up to ride next to them.

“Oi, Akashi,” he drawled, “shouldn’t we head for Kaijou to drop the hostage off?”

Furihata perked, relief crowding with his nerves.

Akashi acknowledged this with a hum. “Normally. But we’re keeping this one, so we won’t bother adjusting our path.”

Aomine and Furihata both gasped, “Eh?”

Furihata twisted his head around, uncaring of the gun Akashi still held (loosely, and no longer pressed to his chin) to glare at him. “But-but you can’t just keep me!”

Akashi’s smile was a show of perfectly straight, white teeth that glinted suavely. “Ah, but I can.” He took his black ten-gallon hat off and plopped it atop Furihata’s head. “Welcome to the Generation of Outlaws, Kouki.”

“New member!” Kise yelled exuberantly, throwing his hands up in the air.

Midorima sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose, while Aomine’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. Murasakibara road up along their other side.

“Ne, Furihataaaa,” he droned, “are you a good cook? Can you cook for us? It’s Mine-chin’s turn and he’s no good.”

Aomine growled. “My cooking is fine.”

“It tastes like dog food,” Murasakibara whined.

Furihata listened to them argue, unconsciously sinking back into Akashi’s solid chest while the aforementioned outlaw oozed confident satisfaction in his decision. Furihata groaned and closed his eyes, pulling the hat down to hide the top of his face as he muttered, “I’m doomed.”


	2. Part 2 (You Bring the Temptation, I'll Pack the Self-Restraint)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2! Let's see me get part 3/4 up this weekend.   
> Also: further sad attempts at witty titles.

“Aaaah! That was good!” Aomine leaned back and rubbed his belly, a loud belch vibrating off his tongue. He undid his belt to bulge his belly (not that it really did, but it was more for the effect, Furihata figured). He tipped his hat forward to cover his eyes. “Taking you hostage was the best choice Akashi’s ever made! Aside from having me join, that is.”

“Aominecchi is full of himself,” Kise groused, half-lying on the table. “But it was good.”

“I’m more than full of myself; I’m full of chili.” Aomine pat his stomach.

Furihata rolled his eyes at the Izuki-level joke, knowing that the mercantile store owner would have slapped his knee had he heard it. He stared into the bottom of the huge pot of chili he’d made, and wondered where it had all gone. How in the world had they managed to fit that much in their stomachs? He’d only eating a single bowl of it himself, and had watched with morbid fascination as the outlaws had devoured the rest. At least Akashi had eaten with some decorum, perching himself on the windowsill.

“It’s very tasty,” Murasakibara said, slurping up the last spoonful of his third bowl.

“Um,” Furihata began hesitantly, “thank you?”

Aomine belched again.

“You can be so crass, Daiki.” Akashi knocked his hat off casually as he passed by, and Aomine scrambled for it. Akashi placed his empty bowl in the sink, to be washed by Midorima later. He leaned by the stove next to Furihata, and smirked slyly. “But thank you for the meal, Kouki. It was delicious.”

“You’re welcome?”

Furihata was still unsure how to act. He’d been surprised to see where the Generation of Outlaws lived during their down time—a ranch-house hidden at the bottom of a cliff, just outside of the town of Rakuzan. He suspected there was some sort of bribery involved to keep the town quiet.

He clutched his arms, his face tightening as he looked down, his eyes hidden by the brim of Akashi’s ten-gallon hat that he’d forgotten he was still wearing.

“Kouki?” Akashi bent to better see his face. “You seem troubled.”

Furihata tensed, and gathering his courage, lifted his chin to look Akashi in the eye. “Why did you take me?”

Akashi kept his gaze, and without looking away ordered, “Shintarou, I think it’s time you and the others tended the horses.”

Midorima gathered up the bowls and placed them in the sink wordlessly, the others recognizing the sudden tenseness of the situation and craftily slipping outside. Midorima nodded as he left. “We’ll take care of it right away, Akashi.”

“Of course.” Akashi waited until Midorima’s footsteps receded. “I took you to be our hostage, remember?”

“Yes, but,” Furihata made a noise of confusion. He sat in one of that vacated seats at the table. “Why haven’t you released me? I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Akashi-san, why am I still  _here_?”

Akashi was quiet for a moment. He sat gracefully beside Furihata, and put his chin in his palm. “Would it surprise you if I said I don’t know?”

Furihata’s mouth opened and closed, until he sputtered, “B-but there ha- _has_  to be a r-reason!”

Akashi hummed, “Nope.” He glanced at Furihata sidelong. “I saw you in that bank and knew if I didn’t take you then, I’d never get the chance again. So even though I don’t have a reason for keeping you, even though I stand to gain nothing with your captivity, I’m doing it anyway.”

He reached out and tapped the side of his hat that Furihata still wore. “For some reason, I just couldn’t leave you alone, Kouki.”

Furihata took the hat off in a fluster, and set it on the table. “I’m just a bank-teller! You’re an outlaw!”

“And?”

“And there’s no  _point_  to this! I won’t be a part of this outlaw business!”

“Do you hate me, Kouki?”

The question threw him for a loop. “Wh-what?”

“I said,” Akashi turned in his seat, and leaned forward with one hand on the table, and the other on the back of Furihata’s chair. His eyes gleamed, “do you hate me, Kouki?”

“I…I,” he stuttered. Furihata was frustrated. He was also angry, and, at the core of himself, nervous and a bit frightened.  (Though a lot of the fear had diminished; seeing his kidnappers scarf down chili he’d made like Aomine had had taken away a huge chunk of their initial intimidation factor.) But he couldn’t deny that he hadn’t been harmed, and the most that had been asked of him was to make a pot of chili.

“You held me at gunpoint,” Furihata pointed out weakly, all the while Akashi leaned closer.

“Part of the job,” he said lowly. “Nothing personal, I assure you.”

Furihata bit his lip. “I don’t hate you.” When Akashi began to smirk, he added, “But I don’t  _like_ you.”

The smirk that had attempted to form dropped to a small frown. Akashi sighed. “I suppose that can’t be helped.”

Akashi scanned Furihata’s face slowly, his eyes half-lidded, until their gazes locked. He let their noses brush, they’d gotten so close. “I’ll have to change your mind.”

“You’re kind of close,” Furihata murmured seriously.

Akashi gave a chuckle of surprise. “You really are interesting,” he said lowly.

“Akashi.”

Furihata flinched back at Midorima’s voice, while Akashi flicked his eyes to the green stable door that’s top half was open to the back porch, where the green-haired outlaw stood.

“What is it, Shintarou?” Akashi asked, his tone cool at the interruption.

“I know you’re busy, but I need to go over the funds with you,” he answered, without a hint of apology.

“Can’t be helped,” Akashi considered with a hint of irritation. He stood up, and in a quick movement picked up his hat and placed it on his head. He stared down at Furihata from under the brim, mismatched eyes intense enough to make the other shiver. “We’ll speak later, Kouki. I’ll have Ryouta show you to the room you’ll be using.”

Akashi stepped out, and Furihata sat at the table stiffly. When he was certain Akashi had gone, he shoved his face in his hands. That was how Kise found him a moment later.

“I’m here to show you your room, Furihatacchi!” Kise cocked his head. “Wah! Why’s your face so red?”

Furihata didn’t answer him, but privately couldn’t deny that for all that Akashi was frustrating, he was also devilishly handsome and fascinating and  _almost_  suave.

*****

“I normally don’t question your orders,” Midorima stated, “but why  _did_  you bring him here?”

Akashi muttered something that sounded like ‘this again,’ and answered, “If I told you there was no real reason?”

“I wouldn’t believe you,” Midorima said flatly.

Akashi chuckled, and leaned against one of the wooden pillars supporting the porch roof. “And normally, you’d be correct. Except I don’t have a reason. Not a real, beneficial one.”

“Then what reasons do you have that  _aren’t_  beneficial?”

“Hm.” Akashi turned to look out at the plain, watching the setting sun light the prairie grass like fire. “Curiosity. Interest. There’s something about him that I enjoy, something,” Akashi grasped for words, and that alone surprised Midorima in a way the things he’d said to that point hadn’t, “sincere,” he settled.

That also surprised Midorima. Mainly because Akashi’s idea of sincerity was akin to shooting someone from the front rather than the back—at least then the person would know it was  _Akashi_  that had shot them. It seemed odd that Akashi would be so attracted to such a quality.

Midorima sighed. “Can I assume his stay here is more than temporary?”

The smile Akashi shot him would have sent a coyote hunting for its dinner in the complete opposite direction.

Though Akashi’s expression showed utmost confidence, his following words contradicted it. “It depends. Tetsuya should be on our trail soon, if he isn’t already. It should take him a week or so to find us—we’ve changed locations since he left us, after all. But he always had a strong intuition, and I have confidence in his skills to find this place. When that time comes, it will be Kouki’s decision whether he stays or goes.”

“You don’t think Kuroko will try to arrest us?”

Akashi’s smile was polite, but his eyes were sly. “He won’t. He knows better than anyone else why we do what we do.”

Midorima nodded slowly. “True.”

“Now,” Akashi’s voice flattened to match his suddenly blank expression, “you wanted to discuss funds?”

Midorima nodded, straightening his posture at the serious change in topic. “I’ve counted. We got all the money from Hanamiya’s account.”

Akashi’s breath of a laugh was lined with cruelty. “Foolish of him to attempt to hide it in a separate account, even if he did open it in a completely different town.”

“What are we to do with it?”

“The usual. Take the part of it that came from his weapons dealings as profit, and disburse the rest to the families he’s swindled.” Akashi tapped the side of his index finger to his lips. “Discretely, of course. We don’t want anything traced back to us, do we?”

“No,” Midorima acknowledged. “Shall I assign Momoi with the task?”

“Momoi is best at dealing with civilians, so that would be conducive.”

He nodded. “I’ll inform her when she returns. I believe she went to pick up supplies at the grocers in Rakuzan.”

Midorima went to enter the house, but paused at the door. “Are you serious about him?”

Akashi’s eyes drifted to him in much the same way a champion archer notches their bow; precisely and without rush, knowing they have all the time in the world to achieve their goal. “Since when,” he spoke calmly, “do I ever do anything I’m not serious about?”

*****

“When you asked me to be your temporary deputy,” Kagami groused, “I assumed that meant we’d be leaving  _quickly._ ”

“So had I,” Kuroko murmured.

“Ah, but that’s impractical.” Riko grinned brightly. It was terrifying. “You didn’t really expect to skip town and leave us without a sheriff, did you?”

Their silence showed that, yes, they had.

“Too bad!” she said cheerfully. “Once Junpei  gets back with Teppei, we can get this all sorted out.”

“It’s been  _hours_ ,” Kagami complained. “The sun is setting! They’ve probably gone miles away by now!”

“Ah-ah!” She held up a hand. “You can address all complaints to the Mayor.”

As though the words had summoned him, the doors of city hall swung open, and Hyuuga came in holding a sheepish Kiyoshi by the collar. “I found him!”

“Where was he?” Riko asked, leaning on her desk.

“At the tavern,” Hyuuga answered drily.

Kagami scrubbed his face with his hand. “Fantastic. Tell me he’s at least not drunk?”

“He’s not. He was mostly just gambling.”

“It was just a bit of fun.” Kiyoshi pouted.

“Have fun on your off hours!” Hyuuga yelled.

“This is pointless,” Kagami grumbled. “The longer we wait the more danger Furihata’s in.”

Kiyoshi’s demeanor abruptly changed, kindness mixing with reprimand. “Really? And what would we have done had you left without leaving some sort of replacement behind, in case more outlaws came into Seirin?” He gestured for them to follow him into his office, a shiny plaque reading ‘Mayor’ hanging on the door. “Junpei informed me on the way over. You would leave Seirin defenseless, just after a robbery?” The look of slight disappointment he gave them made Kagami and Kuroko both shift guiltily in their boots, though Kuroko was more subtle about it.

“We can’t just abandon Furihata,” Kagami muttered.

“But you can’t abandon Seirin either,” Kiyoshi corrected gently. “As it is, if you want to go, you have to assign someone to fill your position, Kuroko.”

“You’re not going to stop us?” Kagami questioned.

“Of course not.” Kiyoshi seemed affronted at the very idea. “Furihata-kun is one of ours, and we protect our own. I’m more than happy to send you off, once we’ve secured that there will be protection for the rest of those we consider ours.”

“I choose Hyuuga-san,” Kuroko decided immediately, pointing to the Mayor’s assistant.

“What?!” Hyuuga jolted.

“Settled!” Kiyoshi smiled.

Hyuuga’s head snapped around to him. “Excuse me?!”

“You’re free to go.” Kiyoshi waved them out. “Be sure to come back safe!”

“ _I didn’t agree to this!”_

Kagami and Kuroko exited the Mayor’s office, and quit the building with a wave to Riko.

“Well,” Kagami said, “that was easier than I expected.”

“Sheriff Kuroko! Kagami!”

They turned at the shouts, and a panting Fukuda and Kawahara ran up to them.

“Fukuda-kun, Kawahara-kun,” Kuroko greeted.

“Is it true?” Kawahara asked, worry lining his face.

“Is what true?”

“We were worried when he didn’t come home from his shift,” Fukuda explained. Furihata, like Kawahara, both rented rooms in Fukuda’s house on his farm half a mile outside the town proper, but still within the border of what was considered Seirin. The income helped Fukuda run his farm, as well as paid for meals for the three of them. They were fast friends, and it should have occurred to Kuroko sooner that the two would be the most upset at what had happened. “We came to town when it started getting late. Is it true? Was he taken hostage by the Generation of Outlaws?”

Kuroko nodded regretfully, and when that only heightened their panic, he reassured them. “They won’t hurt him; that’s not how they work. We’re going to find him.”

They seemed only marginally comforted, but they both nodded. “Bring him back safely,” Kawahara said.

“He’s our friend,” Fukuda added.

“We will,” Kuroko promised. He turned and waved for Kagami to follow him. “Come on Kagami-kun. It’s getting too dark to set out today, but we can start preparing.”

*****

Furihata sighed as he clutched a pillow to his chest. The room was nice, not very unlike his own room at the farm. But it felt a bit lonelier. There were no pictures on the walls, for one, and while the walls were painted a warm shade of oak, it wasn’t the cheerful yellow he was used to. There was a wardrobe he hadn’t checked, but that he’d bet was as bare as the nightstands, which only held a single kerosene lamp.

He’d shut the window on the far wall ten minutes before to keep the outside out, and lit the lamp after drawing the thick white curtains closed. His shoes were resting by the bed, and he curled his bare toes into the plush blanket. It, at least, he really liked. It was thick and warm, soft and deep red, like the covers on the pillows. It seemed more suited to the governor’s mansion than a simple farmhouse, and was certainly not something he’d have ever bought for himself. As it were, he let himself enjoy the luxury while he could.

He took a deep breath with his face in the pillow, and found he liked the smell. It was a smell like wind, as though they were taken fresh off the line. He was distracted by the scent enough that he didn’t realize he was no longer alone in the room until the sound of boots being dropped on the floor startled him.

He yelped and rolled over, and Akashi smirked at him. “And here I was hoping to catch you in some form of undress,” he drawled.

Furihata didn’t think and threw the pillow at him. Akashi caught it deftly, raising an incredulous brow. Furihata blushed and looked away. “Have you come to tell me I can leave?” he asked rhetorically.

“No.” Akashi tossed the pillow back, and walked over to the wardrobe, taking off his hat and undoing his vest.

Furihata watched him curiously. “Sheriff Kuroko will come for me, you know,” he said quietly.

“I have no doubt Tetsuya will come,” Akashi agreed. “And when he does, I will not stop you from leaving with him.”

“Really?” Surprise colored Furihata’s words, and he leaned forward a bit.

“Yes.” Akashi grinned minimally. “So you might as well relax and enjoy your time here. None of us will do you harm…unless you attempt to leave early. Then we would have to restrain you.”

Furihata acknowledged that silently, becoming more and more aware as Akashi set his vest aside on the near desk. When he reached for the bandana around his neck and began to untie it, Furihata asked, “What are you doing?”

Akashi paused. “Preparing for bed.” Then he took the bandana off and set it with the vest.

“But…this is my room?” Furihata said slowly.

“Did Ryouta not tell you?” Akashi opened the wardrobe, and it was decidedly  _not_ empty. Clothes hung at the top, while spare boots and knives and even a shotgun rested at the bottom. He placed his hat on a peg on the back of the wardrobe’s door. “We don’t have any spare rooms. You’ll be sharing with me.”

“I don’t think I like this idea,” Furihata said hurriedly.

“Why is that?” Akashi pulled his one-piece cotton nightclothes from the wardrobe, draping them across the back of the desk chair. Then he began unbuttoning his shirt. As the cloth slipped from his strong shoulders, showcasing the muscles in his arms and chest, he turned to Furihata. “Are you tempted, Kouki?”

Furihata had enough presence of mind not to say the  _yes_  that skipped gleefully to his tongue.

As Akashi chuckled in a way that felt like fingers gliding down his spine and went back to dressing, Furihata turned his eyes away and exhaled gustily.

His stay with the Generation of Outlaws certainly wouldn’t be boring, it seemed.


	3. Part 3 (Your Lips are a Metaphor I Might Want to Taste)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and AO3 will be all caught up with this story on Tumblr.

In retrospect, Furihata mused, it wasn’t like he hadn’t  _expected_  to wake up in a position like this.

The arm around his waist was strong, and the heat against his back shockingly pleasant. Furihata attempted to wriggle free, and the arm tightened.

“Going somewhere?” Akashi murmured, nuzzling the back of Furihata’s head.

“I’d loosen that hand, if I were you,” Furihata said lightly.

“Why’s that?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll shoot it off.”

“Do you even know how to  _hold_  a gun?” Akashi chuckled, but nonetheless lifted his arm.

Furihata slipped from the bed, finding his previous day’s clothes and changing back into them. But not before glaring over his shoulder at Akashi and ordering, “Don’t look.”

Akashi smirked, and humored him by rolling to face the other way. Furihata stared at his back, the sudden realization that Akashi doing such an action was an extremely telling gesture—either he perceived Furihata as so little a threat he had no fear turning his back on him, or he truly believed there was no danger to be had in Furihata’s presence. That he wouldn’t stab Akashi in the back or do him any other harm. For the moment he couldn’t think of a name to call such a feeling, which left him confused and strangely honored all at once.

He finished dressing, leaving the borrowed nightclothes folded on edge of the bed. “You can turn back now.”

Akashi did so, and skimmed Furihata with his eyes, humming. “We’ll find you some fitting clothes that you can change into after you have a bath later.”

“Bath?”

“We  _do_  have running taps here,” Akashi said dryly. “Unless you’d rather continue wearing those same clothes throughout your stay?”

Squirming, Furihata privately admitted that he felt uncomfortable in his previous day’s clothes. He’d worn them for hours—even before he’d been  _kidnapped_. (Had it really only been a day? It felt so much longer.) It would be nice to change into something clean. “No, a bath is fine.”

Akashi sat up, and Furihata fought back a chuckle at how atrocious his bed hair was. Akashi ran a hand through it, and that only made it  _worse,_ spikes going every which way. He must have made a sound, because Akashi slotted him a gentle glare. “I’m glad I amuse you.”

He then climbed from the bed on his side, and walked up to the wardrobe. He retrieved a pair of tan trousers, a white button up, and undergarments from inside. Kouki looked away with a blush when Akashi, just as he had the night before, began to strip without shame.

“You never answered my question,” Akashi noted.

Furihata heard the clink of a belt as Akashi pulled on the trousers. “What’s that?”

“Do you even know how to hold a gun?”

“Oh.” Furihata blinked. “No. I’ve never needed to use one, so…”

“Hm.” Furihata bit his lip as he listened to Akashi come a little closer. “Maybe we should change that.”

“Why would I need to know how to hold a gun?”

“In case you ever needed to defend yourself. “ Akashi tapped him on the shoulder. “You’re safe to turn around now; I’m dressed.”

“There are better ways to defend myself than a gun,” Furihata protested, turning around and crossing his arms. “Besides,” he said, a touch playful, “I think the only person I need defending from is  _you_.”

_Frightening._  The chill that settled over Akashi’s face was  _frightening._  Furihata unconsciously stepped back as a strange silence took hold of the room.

“That’s true,” Akashi said lowly. “I’m not exactly safe.” He pinned Furihata with his eyes. “But there’s much worse than me out there you should be prepared for.”

And Furihata felt like Akashi knew very well what he was talking about, and couldn’t refute him. He swallowed thickly. “I guess you’re right.”

In an instant, Akashi’s face morphed, the chill falling away and turning into the suave smirk Furihata was used to seeing. “Good, we’ll start tomorrow, then.” Akashi swiveled around and approached the door. “For now, we’ll worry about your clothes.”

Akashi opened the door, and gestured for Furihata to follow. “You coming?”

Furihata did so, and tried to ignore the lingering sparks of unease that tingled down his spine.

*****

It didn’t take long to seek out the clothes, as Akashi told him after breakfast, they merely borrowed a set from someone else. Akashi showed him to the bathroom on the second floor, the large metal tub taking up the majority of the space, with a mirror and wash stand next to the single window. Furihata accepted the clothes, and it was with a pointed look that he sent Akashi from the room.

It was only after he’d turned the tap and begun filling the tub that he realized—he was alone. No one was watching him. He could sneak away if he wanted.

He considered it. It wasn’t like staying was much of a problem, this whole kidnapping felt like more of an ongoing annoyance than anything. Akashi himself had promised that Kuroko would find him soon enough, and he’d be free to leave. He didn’t see any harm in staying that time. (And the thought of Akashi being upset at his absence didn’t make his stomach flip in funny ways  _at all_ , of course.)

But, a guilty part of him reminded, Fukuda and Kawahara were probably worried out of their minds for him. If he had the opportunity to get home any sooner and reassure them, he really should.

Furihata tiptoed to the door, and slowly eased it open a crack with barely a squeak of hinges. Peeking out, he didn’t see anyone down the hall. Further opening the door, he poked his entire head out, and checked the other way—locking eyes immediately with an extremely amused Akashi, who leaned against the wall opposite.

They stared at each other in silence. “Going somewhere?” Akashi asked.

“No. No. Just looking around,” Furihata answered, completely casual.

Akashi nodded, understanding seeping from his casual stance and crossed arms. Furihata shut the door, and it was only after it was completely closed that he heard a single, loud, joyful laugh from the other side before the sound was forcefully cut off.

Blushing, Furihata turned off the tap. He tested the water, light steam coming from it in wisps. It was warm, perhaps a little too much, but that was fine. He reached for his pants, then stopped when his gaze strayed to the window. It couldn’t hurt to check. Walking over, he undid the latch, and lifted the bottom panel. He leaned out, looking around to find a way down.

“Looking for something?”

Furihata jolted, banging the back of his head against the window frame. Below him, Aomine watched with his hat tipped back.

“No. No. Just checking the scenery. It’s a, uh,” he stammered, “nice view.”

“It is,” Aomine easily agreed.

“I’ll just, get back to my bath.” Furihata pulled back inside, and closed the window. He was grumbling while he stripped and got in the tub, because unlike Akashi, Aomine didn’t bother trying to hide his guffaws.

*****

After the bath, Akashi and Furihata returned to Akashi’s room, where Akashi worked in a ledger of some sort at his desk. Furihata sat on the bed, looking over the clothes he wore. They were almost a perfect fit, with the legs on the brown trousers just a little too long. Otherwise, everything—from the long sleeved button-up, to the, he was embarrassed to admit, undergarments—fit just right. He tried to think of who they could have been borrowed from, but there was only one person in the Generation of Outlaws that was close enough to his size that his clothes would fit him so well.

He glanced at Akashi’s back, blushing and drawing his knees up to his chin. There was something about wearing the other’s clothes that made him feel a little giddy.

Which was a dangerous train of thought, Furihata knew. He knew infatuation when he felt it, and he was swiftly becoming infatuated with every inch of flirtatious, suave, annoyingly persuasive and persistent Akashi Seijuurou. He always knew he got attached too easily. It made him worried to think what he’d feel about the other by the time Kuroko found him.

Drumming his fingers on his calf, Furihata sought to distract himself. “Akashi, is there anything I can do?”

Akashi twisted in his seat, resting his arm over the back. He tugged at the red bandana around his neck to loosen it. “Bored?”

Furihata shrugged. “A little.”

Akashi nodded, and reached into a bottom drawer on his desk. He pulled out a stack of three books, and offered them. “I have these, if you wish to read. Otherwise, I can find something else for you to do.”

Furihata’s eyes lit up, and he crawled to the edge of the bed to reach out and retrieve the offering. He sat cross-legged, and opened the first book. “I know this author!”

“You do?” Akashi takes on a note of interest.

Furihata flipped through the first few pages. “He’s a favorite of mine. I’ve read a few of his other novels. But I don’t think I’ve read this one.”

Akashi stood from the desk, and took a seat beside Furihata, leaning back on his palms. “I enjoy his work as well. Tell me what you like about him.”

He does, and soon, the two were speaking in-depth about the various books they’d both read, and ones they hadn’t. Furihata was shocked at how similar their tastes were, and seeing Akashi speak so thoughtfully was interesting. He listened when Furihata spoke, so obviously invested in what he had to say it made Furihata flustered.

Furihata shifted, and their hands brushed. Despite the innocence of it, and the many other, more compromising positions they’d been in, that simple brush of skin felt like a bolt of lightning up Furihata’s arm. “Ah!” he exclaimed, pulling his hand away with a fierce blush. “Sorry.”

Akashi snatched up his hand, and tangled their fingers together. “Don’t be.”

“I,” Furihata stuttered, “we, shouldn’t be doing this.” Even though he wasn’t entirely certain what ‘this’ entailed. He weakly tried to tug his hand free.

“Why? What’s so wrong with  _this?_ ” He squeezed their joined hands. “I know you find me attractive. Why do you insist on denying yourself?”

“Because there’s nothing that could ever  _come of this!_ ”

The same quiet from before returned, but unlike the uneasy fear Furihata felt last time, this time the silence carried a layer of hurt with it. Akashi’s expression closed off, a cold, eerie blankness that Furihata wasn’t used to seeing from him taking residence over the handsome plains of his face.

“You’re an outlaw,” Furihata tried to explain, feeling like he was scrambling on the edge of a cliff and not knowing why. “I’m a banker. And I’m leaving once Kuroko finds me. Pursuing this, whatever it is, would only end with someone being hurt.”

And, slowly, Akashi nodded. “You’re right. Of course.” He stared at their hands. “It was foolish of me to think otherwise.”

He released Furihata’s hand, and returned to his desk. “You can stay and read if you wish, but if you want to explore, no one will mind.”

“You aren’t afraid I’ll run away?”

Akashi paused with his pen over the ledger. “There are enough of us around, you’d be spotted before you could.”

Then he got to work, and the only sound in the room was Akashi’s pen scratching the paper. Furihata squirmed, regret prodding at his mind no matter how he told himself he shouldn’t. Murmuring a soft, “Excuse me,” he left the room.

*****

Furihata found himself in the kitchen, watching Kise as he took his turn preparing dinner.

“I’m surprised Akashicchi isn’t with you,” Kise said, stirring what seemed to be a stew of some sort. “I didn’t think he’d let you out of his sight.”

“Yeah, well,” Furihata shrugged, the sentence dying before it could form.

“I was surprised he brought you here at all, you know?” He looked over his shoulder, where Furihata sat at the kitchen table. “He’s not the type to take any sort of risks. There must have been something about you he really liked.”

“You think so?” Furihata asked, tone purposefully light.

“Yep.” Kise popped the ‘p.’ “Why else would he have gone to the trouble? It’s like love at first sight!”

Love was stretch, Furihata decided. But infatuation was a possibility, no matter how hard it was to imagine someone like Akashi being infatuated with anyone. Hadn’t Furihata been coming to the conclusion that he was infatuated himself just earlier?

“But won’t that make it even worse when I leave?” he thought aloud. “What’s the point of pursuing something that will ultimately end?” He traced the grain of the table with his fingernail.

Kise shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he thinks it’ll be worth it.”

Furihata didn’t respond, and the only sound in the kitchen was the bubbling stew and Kise’s pleasant humming. In fact, he hardly spoke for the rest of the day, even when everyone came to eat, and Akashi treated him with utmost politeness—a turn from the usual flirtatious and charming behavior of before. It made the meal an awkward affair for everyone, but Furihata didn’t mind it.

He’d had a lot to think about.

*****

That night, as the two lay in bed, Furihata startled Akashi when  _he_  was the one to press his face into the other’s back.

“Furihata—?”

“You’re an outlaw,” Furihata interrupted, repeating his words from earlier, “and I’m a banker. I’m leaving when Kuroko finds me. There’s practically no chance that something could ever come of this. We barely even know each other beyond our names.”

Akashi was silent as Furihata spoke, utterly still though Furihata nuzzled closer against his back.

“But, and it’s crazy, I’m willing to see what happens anyway. So…okay. Let’s try this.”

“Kouki,” Akashi breathed, and tried to roll over. Furihata stopped him.

“But we’re going at my pace, okay? I’m not sleeping with you after we’ve just met.”

Akashi chuckled, and Furihata let him turn over. In the darkness the blush on Furihata’s face was hidden, and for that he was grateful. Akashi turned his chin up, and placed a kiss to Furihata’s forehead. “I accept your offer.”

Furihata didn’t know where this choice would take him, but he was determined not to regret it.

*****

Miles away, a sheriff and his temporary deputy settled in for the night around a fire, their shelter a safe haven from the dangers of the open. They’d checked one of the Generation of Outlaws’ previous safe houses, to no luck. Only a little discouraged, they vowed to up their search the next day. They’d find them, even if they had to look in every town and hideout.

But, as it turned out, Kuroko and Kagami weren’t the only ones looking. 


	4. Part 4 (I've Got a Bad Idea and Enough Daring in My Pocket to Make it Happen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extreme historical inaccuracies! Dubious plot devices! Attempts at drama and suspense that aren’t very good! Basically, an AU that’s just a bunch of stereotypes existing in some vague parallel not-history. Written for fun, and no research. Keep that in mind. :D
> 
> That said. Um. *cough* Enjoy? (Officially caught up with the Tumblr postings now, woot woot!)

“How did it go?” Kise asked, looking up from his hand of cards.

The bottom half of the stable door shut behind them as Furihata glared at his feet. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that Akashi would be leaning against the wall, now, his hand attempting to hid the humor in his grin, but those bright, attention-grabbing eyes unable to disguise the mirth—

He purposely didn’t finish the thought. No need to bolster Akashi’s already large confidence, even in his own head.

“He did alright,” Akashi said. “Although  _squeaking_  every time he pulled the trigger was a little unconventional.”

Aomine guffawed, slapping his hand on the table. “I’m surprised he didn’t shoot himself in the foot!”

Furihata raised his chin, narrowed gaze honing in on the darker man’s toothy grin. “And I’m surprised you haven’t popped, given the size of your ego.”

“ _Oooh_.” Aomine leaned forward. “The mouse learns to use a gun and now he’s got a spine.”

“Don’t be a jerk, Aomine.” Kise rolled his eyes.

He snorted. “He knows I’m just messing with him.” Aomine tossed a crisp bill into the pile of money at the center of the table. “I’m raising the pot. Match or fold.”

Kise looked keenly at his hand, but when Furihata subtly stepped behind Aomine, he raised his eyes. Furihata peeked at Aomine’s hand, and mouthed, “ _Two jacks_ , _”_ to him.

Kise smirked, and Furihata exited the room with a grin on his face. Barely-there footsteps told him Akashi followed. Behind them, a harsh curse sounded as Kise won the hand.

“Cheater,” Akashi murmured in his ear, but there was no rebuke in his tone.

Furihata turned his head a bit. “Not often. Just when someone needs a little…one-upping.”

Akashi’s hands settled on his waist as he chuckled against his shoulder. Sharp little shivers skittered between his shoulder blades at the feeling.

Being like this was…odd. Not unpleasant, but not what he’d expected, either. Akashi had to be one of the most intense, interesting people he’d ever met. He’d thought that, after agreeing to explore their… _whatever this was_ …that he’d be a bit more hands-on. (More than he’d already been, that is.)

But so far, Akashi acted shockingly tame. No hands strayed below the waist, lips never traversed past his jaw, forehead, or cheek. And even in bed at night, when Furihata’s stomach churned and a quiet heat simmered between his legs, Akashi kept himself at a respectful distance. In their sleep they gravitated closer, and he’d found himself waking up with a heartbeat under his ear and fingers playing over the bumps of his spine the past three mornings. Once apparent that he was awake, however, those hands would disappear, and Akashi would place a kiss to his forehead before rolling out of bed.

It was confusing. It was strange. It was  _frustrating_.

Furihata latched his hands over Akashi’s, keeping them grounded at his waist as he stalked forward, forcing Akashi to follow with little more than a surprised grunt. He led them to the nearest unoccupied room, the sitting room. Coming to a stop in the middle of the room, he then released Akashi’s hands to spin around in his arms. Similar as their heights were, he didn’t have to lift his face much to press a kiss to his lips.

Akashi’s eyes shot wide, his hands clenching on Furihata’s waist in a way that made his skin tingle.

“Kouki,” he breathed, pulling back slightly.

“Shhh.” Kouki pecked his lips. “For once, Akashi,  _stop thinking._ ”

Thankfully, Akashi listened.

Mouths came together, pressing firm and insistent. Pried open with tongue and teeth, Furihata was flattered in a way about how enthusiastic Akashi was to participate now that they were embroiled in the act. He couldn’t help but wonder, however, if Akashi really was as experienced in such matters as his charm and bearing made him out to be. He nipped at Furihata’s bottom lip a little too hard, and the angle was a bit off. Was it possible that Akashi was an experienced kisser? Not that Furihata could claim much better, but it was grounding, almost a  _relief,_ to find out that there were things even Akashi wasn’t automatically amazing at.

And then Akashi’s hand was at his neck, pulling him in a bit closer, and Furihata decided to take his own advice, and stop thinking.

Akashi’s mouth didn’t taste like much of anything, really. Perhaps a hint of the lemonade from their lunch, but of all the sensation he took notice of,  _wet_  and _warm_  were most prominent. Furihata decided that he liked it. He liked it a lot. He wanted to keep doing it, and would have, had there not been a cough from the doorway.

“Akashi-kun,” Momoi kept her gaze focused resolutely somewhere over their heads, her face flushed, “I needed to speak with you for a moment.”

Furihata jumped back, and for a moment he and Akashi stared at each other. For once, Furihata wasn’t the only one flustered. Akashi coughed, and turned away. “I’ll be right there, Satsuki.”

She nodded, and fled the room.

Furihata licked his lips. They felt warm. Almost prickly, but in a good way. He shifted on his feet as Akashi faced him once more.

“I have to see what she needs,” he said.

“Of course.”

“I’ll…see you later.”

“Yeah.”

They stood, quiet, for a moment, and then Akashi raised his hand slightly, before dropping it, aborting the motion half-way. He followed after Momoi.

Left alone, Furihata collapsed back onto the couch with a heavy exhale. He ran his fingers through his hair, and shut his eyes with a groan. His tongue ran over his teeth, and recalled that as they’d been kissing, he’d come across a barely-noticeable chip in one of Akashi’s bottom teeth.

*****

“You’re quite attached to him, aren’t you, Akashi-kun?”

Akashi raised a brow, and sat beside Momoi on the porch. “I wasn’t aware you wished to discuss my personal life, Satuski.”

“I’m just happy you  _have_  one.” Her eyes glittered at him, knowing. “You’ve changed a lot from the Akashi-kun I first met.”

“I wasn’t an outlaw when you first met me,” he pointed out.

“You weren’t,” she affirmed, her voice dropping. “But you were worse, somehow.”

The sun began to dip below the horizon. The light was fitting as it hit Akashi’s hair, blending with the red like a sunset. But on Momoi, her hair such a soft pink, it was more like a dawn. Within the house, the sound of playful roughhousing came, muffled with the echo of laughter.

“What is it you wanted to tell me?” Akashi asked.

“Something’s going on with my informants,” she said. “I can’t reach anyone in Meisei. I don’t know what it means, but I have a bad feeling.”

“Do you think we’ve been compromised?”

She narrowed her eyes, lost in thought. “I don’t know. It’s possible. We’ve been stationed outside Rakuzan for a while. I think we should consider moving on to a new safe house.”

A note of regret burdened her words, and Akashi agreed with it. The ranch house was the longest they’d ever stayed at a safe house before moving on, either back to one of the others, or to a new one, and without meaning too, they’d all begun to think of it as a home in some way. Leaving it would be unpleasant at the least, even painful at the most.

“You may be right.” He set his elbow to his knee, and rested his chin in his palm. “Inform Shintarou of this decision. We’ll begin searching for a new place after Tetsuya’s found us.”

Her face brightened. “It’ll be so good to see Tetsu-kun again!”

Momoi stood, and made to head inside. Before she went in, he ended their conversation the same way he always did.

“Has Daiki asked you to marry him yet?”

She looked back at him, amused. “You know he hasn’t, Akashi-kun.”

He hummed, and moments later, he was alone. The sun dropped ever lower, and he remained, lost in thought.

*****

After their moment in the sitting room, to say Furihata had  _expectations_  of what would come that night when Akashi crawled into their shared bed would be an understatement. He’d even taken a bath after dinner, and it was only his own bashfulness that kept him from only wearing a shirt to bed. Certainly, he’d initiated their earlier kisses, but that had been quite enough boldness from him for a while.

But when Akashi came in for bed, he hardly glanced at Furihata, who sat against the frame, half covered by the plush red blanket. He merely went about his routine, snuffed out the light, and lay on his side beneath the covers, facing away from Furihata. He wished a gentle, “Goodnight, Kouki.”

Furihata stared at his back in disbelief.

Alright. Maybe he had room in him for just  _one_  more act of boldness today.

Akashi blinked up at him as he suddenly found himself on his back, with Furihata straddling his waist.

“Kouki,” he said, slowly, “what are you doing?”

“If you don’t want me here, tell me to move.”

Akashi’s expression twisted with confliction, and Furihata made to get off, but a pair of hands shot up to grip his hips. “Wait!”

“Don’t play with me, Akashi.” Furihata pursed his lips. “I’m confused. A few days ago you seemed interested in pursuing this with me, but ever since I agreed you haven’t  _done_ anything.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said.

“Then why? I don’t understand. You said we’re both attracted to each other—so why are you doing the exact thing you asked me about, and denying yourself?”

“It’s not that, either.” Akashi’s hands slipped from Furihata’s waist, to his upper thighs. He fell quiet for a moment. “Kouki, why are you attracted to me?”

Not expecting the question, Furihata reeled. “Um. I. It can’t just be that you’re handsome?”

“It can be,” Akashi acquiesced with a small grin. “It’s what others have said. But is that all?”

Finding the tables suddenly turned, he grew flustered. “Well. It’s. It’s not so simple!”

“Take your time.” His calm was nearly infuriating.

Furihata dropped his hands atop Akashi’s, clenching them as he thought. And then, as his words tended to do when he was deeply nervous and embarrassed, they came out in a great rush. “I can’t help it that I find you so interesting, when you challenge all my expectations. You act like this big, bad outlaw and try to be so suave and intimidating, but you actually  _care_ , especially about your team, and while you may not show it I can tell that you’re always thinking about protecting them—and can you blame me for getting a bit heady when that kind of attention gets put on  _me_ , of all people? I may not know about whatever your goal is, or nearly enough about  _you_ , but I’m fairly cautious about most things, and something about you makes me want to be reckless for once. And that’s so  _scary_  and  _exciting_ at the same time. I like to think I’m a good judge of people, and you—and you…”

“And what, Kouki?” Akashi whispered, his voice soft but insistent.

“And you’re not a bad person,” he answered, just as quiet. He squeezed Akashi’s hands. “I think that the people you care about should consider themselves very lucky.”

In the ensuing silence he grew evermore nervous, and blurted. “You  _are_  handsome, though.”

A burst of laughter flooded from Akashi, and when he looked at Furihata there was something like amazement there. “So sincere,” he said.

Before Furihata could ask what he meant, Akashi continued. “I never intended to deny myself. I’m only drawing this out; trying to savor it— _you_.”

“It’s been five days, and Kuroko will be here soon,” Furihata said. “We might not have time to do that.”

Akashi smirked. “That’s only if you decide to leave with him.”

At the sober look Furihata gave, the smirk faded. “Akashi,” he began, “you and I both know that won’t happen.”

Furihata rubbed circles with his thumbs into the back of Akashi’s hands. “I have a life back in Seirin. A home. Friends that are worried about me, that I can’t just leave behind to stay with a group of outlaws. The way our lives are now…beyond this week, there’s no place for  _this_  in it.”

Akashi closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh. “How cruel. You couldn’t even let me entertain the idea.”

Furihata smiled, but there was no joy in it. “In a way, it would have been crueler if I had.”

A small, barely-there laugh gusted from Akashi’s lips. Suddenly, Furihata found himself pulled down by quick hands, which wrapped around his back and held him tucked close to Akashi.

“Do you believe it’s possible to love someone in five days, Kouki?”

“No.” Heart in his throat, he settled his face in the crook of Akashi’s neck. “I think love takes a bit longer. But…I think you  _can_  come to care for someone.”

“I agree.” Akashi’s fingers slipped through the hair at his nape, tender and sweet. “But,” he added, “I think falling in love with you would have been easy.”

Furihata’s eyes burned, and he hoped his voice didn’t crack when he echoed, “I agree.”

Akashi coaxed his head up, until he was staring down into a face both somber and affectionate. He cupped Furihata’s cheek, the pad of his thumb gliding across his bottom lip. “What do you want, Kouki?”

Furihata exhaled, and leaned into the touch. With lidded eyes, he murmured, “Kiss me, Seijuurou?”

“Yes.”

Except he didn’t, because from outside the house came the sound of gunfire.

*****

The shots, to Akashi’s relief, hadn’t been directed at anyone. However they had been, to Akashi’s growing anger, a warning.

“Hey, Generation of Idiots,” Hanamiya Makoto, astride the back of a dark horse, yelled out. His gun pointed to the sky, and on either side of him astride their own horses, his men smirked. “You’d best get out here  _soooooon_ , unless you want us to set your stable on fire! Come on, we just want to talk!”

“What’s the plan?” Aomine murmured, his gaze intense on the front door.

Akashi took stock of his group. They’d had their fair share of sticky situations before, but no one had ever managed to track them to a safe house. In the dark, they’d all geared up as quickly and efficiently as possible, slipping back into their clothes and holstering their guns. Upstairs, still in their nightwear, Furihata and Momoi hid in Akashi’s room.

Before leaving them, he’d made sure Momoi had her gun. He’d given one to Furihata as well, but knew she had better aim, and if the situation came down to it, would be the one more likely to take the shot. He’d shared a final look with Furihata, gripping his hand tight. “I’ll be back,” he promised. “Protect each other.”

His palm still tingled with the feeling of Furihata’s fingers slipping through his as he pulled away.

“We don’t have time to waste.” He clenched his hand to rid the phantom sensation. “We’ll go out, but be ready for a shootout. We’re evenly numbered, but we have the better skill. He knows that. If they start a fight here, he knows there’s a chance he won’t walk away from it alive. But most importantly,” he locked gazes with each of them, “ _protect each other._ ”

Besides, Akashi had one trump card up his sleeve. Hanamiya could try and kill his team as much as he wanted, but he was likely under orders not to touch a hair on Akashi’s head. Akashi held no such qualms. If Hanamiya or one of his men took a shot at one of Akashi’s, they both knew where he’d fire his first bullet. And Akashi never missed.

If there was one thing Akashi was certain of here, it was that Hanamiya would always put his life above others.

They exited the house, guns at the ready. Some thirty feet away, Hanamiya’s men held a line with their horses. Akashi counted them off, and recognized them as the usual group that worked under him, all accounted for.

“You said you wanted to talk.” Akashi grimaced. “Talk.”

“So impatient.” Hanamiya leaned forward in his saddle, as if the conversation bored him already. “Where’s the lady? I don’t see her here.”

“As if we’d let you near her,” Aomine growled.

“Daiki,” Akashi admonished.

“Ah, how rude.” Hanamiya’s face stretched in a mocking grin. “You know she’s  _my_ fiancé, not yours.”

Aomine’s breath hissed between his teeth.

“Stop it,” Akashi demanded. “You didn’t come here to mock Daiki. What do you want?”

Hanamiya clicked his teeth. “You’re no fun.” He sat back, and the condescending humor slipped away. “You’ve been causing a lot of problems for us, Akashi.”

“That’s sort of been the whole point,” he returned.

“It’s annoying. I’m here to tell you to stop.”

Akashi grit his teeth. “And if we don’t?”

Hanamiya’s grin returned, and he looked over Akashi’s shoulder. “If you don’t…then consider this a  _warning_.”

Behind them, there was a  _whoosh_ , and flames roared throughout the house.

“ _Satsuki!_ ” Aomine screamed, and ran.

Hanamiya bowed in his saddle, he and his men turning their horses to ride away. But not before he’d called out, tauntingly, “The Governor sends his regards!”

Numb with horror, Akashi stared at the growing fire, his heart pounding and his mind screaming,  _“Kouki_!”

And then he was running, too.

*****

“Can you see what’s going on?” Furihata whispered.

Momoi peeked through the window. “They just approached Hanamiya and his men.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure.” Her face was grim. “But now I know for certain that whatever happened to my contact in Meisei, it definitely had to do with them.” She paused. “Do you smell…oil?”

A voice came from the doorway. “You always were the smart one of the group.”

Furihata and Momoi jumped, but before they could turn, the voice came again. “Ah-ah! Drop the gun, Momoi, or you’ll be cleaning his blood out the floorboards for weeks.”

Reluctantly, Momoi did so.

“Now, kick it away.”

She did, sending it sliding to a corner.

“Turn around.”

They did so, slowly. The man’s dark hair was put in tight rows to the back of his head, and he stood taller than Furihata.

“Momoi.” He glanced her over, something disgusting and lecherous entered his smirk. “You’ve gotten more…lovely, since we last met.”

“Funny,” she said coldy, “because you’ve gotten uglier, Haizaki. Working with Hanamiya, now?”

The smirk fell, a grimace taking its place. “Aren’t you quick witted.” He took a step closer. “He made a generous offer. Now. Where’s the ledger?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb. We both know you’re not.”

Ledger? Furihata thought for a moment, and remembered Akashi working at his desk a few days ago. Was that what this guy wanted?

“How about this? Give me the ledger, or I kill your friend.” He glanced Furihata over. “Who even are you?”

“No one,” Momoi answered, even as Furihata blurted, “A bank-teller.”

“A bank-teller?” Haizaki looked him over again. “Hm.”

“I’ll get you the ledger,” Momoi snapped, and under his careful watch, stepped toward the desk to search through it.

Furihata didn’t know what, exactly, was going on. He didn’t know why this man—Haizaki—needed the ledger, or who Hanamiya was, or anything. But he was scared,  _terrified_ , and knew that whatever was going on, it wasn’t good. And whatever was in that ledger, Haizaki couldn’t be allowed to have it.

Turned out, he had room for one more bold action, after all.

Akashi had given him a gun, knowing there was little to know chance of Furihata being able to bring himself to fire it, and fire it properly, after so little teaching. But who said that was what he had to do with it?

Very, very carefully, counting on the dimness to provide some cover, he slid his hand beneath the messy blanket on the edge of the bed, and grabbed the gun.

Momoi found the ledger quickly, and it was with reluctance that she held it out as Haizaki approached. “Here.”

“Perfect. Now,” he tilted his head back to the door. “I just need you to come with me as well.”

She jerked. “What?!”

“You’re parents are willing to pay an  _awful_  lot of money to get you back.” He reached for the ledger, his attention completely diverted from Furihata. “Now let’s get moving—“

Furihata chucked the gun. A million risky possibilities ran through his mind. What if it went off and shot someone? What if he missed his target? What if—?

Luckily for him, fate was on his side.

The gun, heavy thing that it was, bashed against the side of Haizaki’s head. He yelled, hand coming up to cradle his temple.

“Momoi-san, run!” Furihata shouted.

She did, ledger tight to her chest, skirting around Haizaki and down the hall. Furihata made to follow, but a hand grabbed the back of his shirt.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Haizaki pulled him back. Furihata struggled, and he knocked the back of his head with the butt of his gun. Haizaki looked out the window, and glowered. “Shit, out of time.”

He glared down at Furihata. “Looks like you’ll have to do, bank-teller. You better hope you’re useful.”

Dazed by the blow, black spots dancing in his vision as sudden nausea rolled his stomach, Furihata was hardly aware when Haizaki pulled him down the stairs, the smell of oil pungent in the air.  They got to the back door, where Haizaki turned on one of the kerosene lamps in the kitchen, the flame bright after so much darkness. Furihata swayed on his feet, and tried to pull out of Haizaki’s grip.

“Time for you to go to sleep,” Haizaki said, and the accompanying smile was not a kind one.

The sound of breaking glass reverberated through his ears as the lamp was knocked to the floor. It was the last thing he heard before pain exploded behind his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, as unlikely as the events of this chapter are, please SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF. I did no research, and am just writing from my head for funzies.


	5. Part 5 (Allow Me to Slip Into Something a Little More Menacing)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it's been a while. Let's see if I can end this by March.
> 
> Only 3 parts left.
> 
> I'll edit this when it isn't five AM.

The ranch house was in shambles. From outside, the upper floor appeared largely intact. The same could not be said of the bottom. Streaks of dark ash coated the windows. The smell of smoke stirred in the air whenever something moved. Through the front door, the inside appeared a blackened maw.

The moment he saw it, Kuroko took off running.

“Wait, Kuroko!” Kagami followed behind, holding the reins of their horses.

Aomine spotted him first. He looked up from the piles of salvaged items strewn across the ground out front. “Tetsu.”

“What happened? Where is everyone?” Kuroko scanned him for signs of injury. “Is anyone hurt?”

“The others went with Momoi into town. We’re all fine. Well.” Aomine wouldn’t look him in the eye. “You’ll want to talk to Akashi.”

Kuroko’s blood ran cold. “Did something happen to Furihata-kun?”

Aomine turned away, gesturing to the side of the house. “He’s around back.”

Kuroko nodded. “Kagami-kun, stay here with Aomine-kun for a bit.”

“Oi, Kuroko!” Kagami groaned as Kuroko rounded the building.

*****

His blanket smelled like smoke. Akashi turned it in his hands, finding only scant scorch marks in the fabric. So little damage done. Of course, of all the things to survive, this would be one of them.

Akashi paused, and then folded the blanket. “Hello, Tetsuya.”

“Akashi-kun.” Kuroko sounded cold. “Where is Furihata-kun?”

He smoothed the creases in the blanket until it was a perfectly flat rectangle, and set it on the ground. “Taken.”

He could feel the accusation in Kuroko’s gaze on the back of his neck. “By who?”

“Hanamiya.”

A sharp intake of breath. “If he’s hurt, Akashi-kun—”

Akashi turned, and Kuroko fell silent at the dangerous turn in his expression. “I never said I wasn’t getting him back.”

Kuroko faltered, opening and closing his mouth. “You have a plan?”

“Momoi’s following a lead. Once she gets back, we’ll head out.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Akashi tilted his chin. “I didn’t expect you not to.”

*****

Furihata’s head _ached._ A sharp, rhythmic throbbing that made nausea creep in his throat. He swallowed it back and cracked open his eyes.

The light wasn’t too bad. Dimmed just enough by the roof of the large tent he was in to not make his headache worse. He shifted, bones popping and muscles stiff in his back and legs, but especially his hips. He looked to the side, where Haizaki sat cross-legged by the entrance.

Haizaki spotted Furihata’s wandering eyes, and leaned to yell outside. “Hey, Hanamiya, he’s awake!”

A man pulled aside the tent flap and walked in. Furihata blinked, trying to remember why he seemed so familiar. The man smirked, and he remembered looking through the window with Momoi-san. The men on horseback outside.

The house. A smell of oil. The crash of a lamp.

What had happened to the others?

“Good morning.” Hanamiya softened his smirk into a smile, and crouched at Furihata’s side.

Furihata’s eyes darted around. He tried to shift away, and realized his hands and feet were bound.

“Don’t worry, hey,” Hanamiya raised his hands, tone gentle, “we aren’t gonna hurt ya. Those Miracles are pretty bad guys, you know? We just want you to tell us what you know about them. We’re trying to stop them.”

Did they think he was an idiot? Even if Haizaki hadn’t knocked him out and been utterly skeevy, he’d been spending the last week with them. While it was true that they’d taken him themselves, no harm had come to him. He’d made them chili. Listened to their banter around the house.

(Learned the smell of Akashi’s blankets. Felt his warmth at his back. Tasted mint in his kisses.)

While Furihata didn’t know exactly what their goals were, or why they did what they did…he was certain they weren’t bad people. There must have been a reason.

And all at once he realized that he wanted to protect them.

“I don’t know anything,” he said.

“You don’t have to lie. We won’t let them get to you here.”

As if they’d hurt me, Furihata thought, but didn’t respond.

“What sort of work were you doing for them?” Hanamiya continued. “You’re a bank-teller, right? Where are they putting their funds?”

“I don’t know anything.”

“You never saw their ledger? You don’t have any idea?”

Furihata grit his teeth. “I don’t know anything,” he repeated.

Hanamiya rolled his head side to side, until he tilted it back to look at the roof of the tent with a sigh. “That’s a shame. A real shame.”

A moment later, Furihata stared down the barrel of a gun.

“I guess Haizaki was wrong,” Hanamiya said, all sense of kindness ripped from his voice and expression. “You aren’t useful at all.”

His eyes clenched shut. Mind a whirlwind, heart thumping, waiting for the bang, he cried out. “Seijuurou!”

The bang never came.

He opened his eyes. Hanamiya watched him. He tilted his head, and glanced at Haizaki, whose eyebrows were raised. “You said he was a bank-teller.”

“That’s what he said,” Haizaki groused.

“Is that _all_ he is?”

He shrugged.

Hanamiya rubbed his chin, and slipped his gun back in the holster. He gripped Furihata’s hair at the front, and pulled until they were facing one another dead-on. “Not much of a looker,” he observed. “Do you think _Seijuurou,”_ he said it mockingly, “would come for him?”

Furihata stiffened as he caught on to their plan. Dread settled low in the pit of his stomach. No. No, he did not want to be bait. He refused. “He wouldn’t come.”

Hanamiya smirked as though he were handed a victory. “See, I think he will.” He shoved Furihata back to the ground. “Make sure he’s secured. We’re taking him with us.”

Hanamiya exited the tent. Haizaki whistled after he left. “Best hope you’re wrong about him not coming, bank-teller.” He laughed. “Because if he doesn’t, boy, you aren’t gonna survive what happens.”

*****

“That’s it, Momoi-san?”

“Mmhmm.” She sheathed the knife under her sleeve and pat her holster for the tenth time to ensure her gun was still there. Her eyes locked on a plume of smoke in the distance, rising from a train heading along the tracks. “That’s the one.”

Hours ago she’d returned to the house with word of Hanamiya and his gang being seen boarding the train with an unknown man. Akashi had them mobilized in minutes. They plotted out the train’s course and set up an intervention point, where a small group would board the train, incapacitate and immobilize what men there were, and then send up a flare to alert the rest to come retrieve them with Furihata. While Aomine argued against it, Momoi opted in as she was the only one who know the layout of the train.

“If we haven’t sent up a flare by this point,” Akashi’d pointed at the map, “assume we’re in need and send in Murasakibara to extract us.”

There’d been grumbling from all sides, even Kagami when he realized Kuroko wasn’t letting him go.

“Kagami-kun’s too loud. This is a stealth mission.”

Luckily, he’d had a hard time arguing against that.

As the train approached, the group of three mounted their horses, taking off a little ahead of it to make it easier to keep pace alongside. Wind ripped through their hair as they carefully aligned themselves with the observation platform at the very back. First Akashi, then Momoi and Kuroko, gripped the railing and climbed on, trusting their horses would be retrieved by Midorima.

Akashi pulled out his gun. From the corner of his eye, he saw the others do the same. He gestured for Kuroko to go first. He did, easing the door open and slipping inside. After a moment, the others followed.

The observation car was empty. Windows looked out on the landscape from either side. No sign of anyone.

“Where are they?” Akashi whispered.

“Probably in the passenger carriages ahead,” Momoi answered, just as soft. “They’re likely staying close together, just in case.”

Akashi nodded. “Kuroko, lead the way.”

Kuroko moved silently. He slipped into the next passenger car. Seats with red cushions and gold trim lined either side of a wide aisle. All of them empty. He called Momoi and Akashi in as he headed for the next passenger car. It, too, was empty.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Kuroko murmured.

“They may all be grouped up in the front-most passenger car.” Momoi nodded ahead. “We have to keep going.”

But the next is also empty. And the next. With each one, Akashi grew increasingly agitated. His grip on his gun became white-knuckled.

“They have to be in the next one,” Momoi said. “It’s the last passenger car. After that he’d have to have climbed over the coal mounds to get to the boiler.”

“Let’s go in together.” Kuroko readied himself to cross into the next car. “If they’re all in there, we have little hope of sneaking in unnoticed. If we all go in as one, there’s a better chance they’ll be overwhelmed.”

Akashi and Momoi agreed. On the count of three, they crossed over, forcing open the passenger car door and entering, guns drawn.

But it was empty.

Akashi lowered his gun, eyes blazing. “Where are they?”

Kuroko wandered to the far seats, looking around.

Momoi gripped her hair. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Akashi took a deep breath. “We should be at the extraction point soon. We’ll have to regroup and come up with another plan.”

“Akashi-kun.”

Akashi turned. Kuroko held a piece of cream colored paper in his hand. He read it over, and then silently held it out for Akashi to take. He did so, becoming utterly blank-faced as he took in the words printed neatly in black ink.

_See you at the Governor’s mansion._

“Akashi-kun,” Momoi said, “there’s something on the back.”

He flipped it. _I left you some presents._

From the back of the train came a loud _boom_. They all bolted for the windows, looking out as much as possible to see chunks of metal and wood being rapidly left behind.

“We have to get out of here.” Akashi tossed the paper aside. “Hanamiya’s rigged the train.”

Another _boom_ shook the train, this one louder than the last.

“Get on the roof!” Akashi climbed atop one of the seats to reach a hatch. He twisted the handle and pulled it open. “Momoi, you first.”

Akashi and Kuroko helped lift her out, and she helped pull Kuroko through on his turn. Akashi jumped and gripped the hatch’s edges, lifting himself up as Momoi and Kuroko gripped his shirt to help him through. The wind roared past as smoke billowed from the train, both in the front and the back.

Another car exploded. They stayed low, covering their heads as shrapnel flew.

“Akashi!” Momoi shouted over the wind. “What do we do?”

Before he could answer, another shout came. “SATSUKI!”

Three horses ran just ahead of the train, slowly becoming parallel to the car they were on. Aomine held out one hand in their direction. “Get over here!”

“Daiki!” Momoi edged closer.

“Careful, Momoi-san.” Kuroko helped her position herself for a jump.

“Thanks, Tetsu-kun.” She smiled, and took the leap. Pink hair whipped around her face, and of course, Aomine would never let her fall. She crashed into his braced body, one strong arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her close.

“Kuroko, you next!” Kagami was quick to take Aomine’s place closest to them. “I’ll catch you!”

“Kagami-kun,” Kuroko said, heartfelt.

“What? Did you say something? I can’t hear you unless you shout, dumbass!”

Kuroko’s lips turned down in a faint scowl. “Stupid Kagami.”

He took the jump nevertheless, and moments later Kagami’s horse was being replaced by Murasakibara’s. Akashi crouched, heart thumping. He leaped just as the car next to him burst into flames. The force of the explosion threw him off path. The ground rushed up, and he held his hands out to guard his face.

“Akachin!” A hand gripped the back of his shirt and jerked him up before he could hit the earth. Murasakibara yanked him onto the horse as his pulse hammered in his throat.

“Thank you, Atsushi.” They rode after Aomine and Kagami. An outcropping of boulders jut from a nearby hillside, where Midorima had their horses tethered and Kise was jumping up and down, arms waving madly. “How did you now to come get us? We hadn’t set the flare off.”

“The big boom was a good sign,” he replied.

The group came together and Akashi, Kuroko, and Momoi reclaimed their horses.

“It was a trap,” Kuroko explained. “Hanamiya knew we would come.”

“Then what do we do now?” Kise asked.

In a moment of consensus, the group turned their eyes to Akashi. He pushed down the brim of his hat, jaw stern. “We’re going to see the Governor.”

*****

Miles away, Furihata squirmed in Haizaki’s saddle. His hands and feet still tied, and a gag stuffed in his mouth.

“This would have been so much faster if we’d just taken the train,” Haizaki complained.

“Don’t underestimate Momoi,” Hanamiya said. “She probably got word the moment we boarded that train. She’s intelligent. There’s a reason her parents set such a high dowry.”

The morning had been disorienting. They’d been on the train no longer than thirty minutes before another group of Hanamiya’s men had ridden up alongside and retrieved them from the observation platform.

Haizaki yawned, and manhandled Furihata into a better position in front of him on the saddle when he continued to squirm. “What a hassle.”

Hanamiya turned to them, smiling in a way that sent shivers down Furihata’s spine. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the Governor will be pleased with our catch.”


End file.
